


Time To Go To The E.R. At 3 A.M.

by orphan_account



Series: That one A.U. that is a happy ending and gay feelings are involved. [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Human Bill Cipher, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Older Dipper Pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper gets a text at 3 in the morning. Of course Bill is involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time To Go To The E.R. At 3 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> I was on tumblr and saw this:  
> imagine person A of your OTP getting up in the middle of the night to get a snack. As they stumbled out of their room, they trip over the foot of a recliner they left up. They let out a blood curdling scream and wake up B. B finds A on the floor holding their leg, shouting “IT’S BROKEN, IT’S BROKEN!” So B has to drive them to the ER at 3 in the morning, and carry them in.
> 
> I don't know why I thought of Dipper and Bill, but I did.

It was 3 a.m. Fucking 3 a.m. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to text him at fucking 3 fucking a.m. in the fucking morning? After four days and three nights of trudging through the woods chasing after Grunkle Ford (who’d been turned into a griffin of all things, who could’ve done that _Mable_ ) Dipper had finally gotten a chance to get back to the Mystery Shack and take a shower (after Stan and Bill had laughed at the nearly naked older investigator (who had Dipper’s outer shirt and the remains of his pants) and the twenty year old one that’d lost his t-shirt, left shoe, and both socks for a good ten minutes straight) and go to bed on the slightly to small twin bed instead of the hard ground that he’d been sleeping on for three nights. So who thought that it’d be a good idea to text him at 3 a.m. If it was Stan asking him to do a beer run he would flip his shit, seriously.

Dipper grabbed the phone and pulled it under the covers to try not wake up Mabel and looked at the text -HEY PINE TREE WHAT DOES THE FUNNY LOOKING WHITE THING STICKING OUTTA MY LEG MEAN? THERE’S A LOT OF BLOOD COMING OUT OF MY LEG, SHOULD I BE SCREAMING OR SOMETHING?-. It took Dipper a minute to realize what the ‘funny looking white thing’ probably was, -How did you break your leg Bill? Where the fuck are you.- Dipper quickly sent while he pulled his back-up sneakers out from under his bed. Dipper was tying them when he got the response -I’M NEXT TO STAN’S CHAIR, ASSHOLE’S SLEEPING IN IT AGAIN, THOUGHT I’D WAKE HIM TO ASK, BUT HE’S EVEN GRUMPIER THAN YOU ARE.-

Of course he was. Bill could never make this easy, on top of having to take the stupid demon-turned-human to the hospital he’d have to at least move the carpet to cover the bloodstain. Wasn’t the carpet already covering the bloodstain from when Mabel, Stan, and Bill decided to play the knife game? Well at least that one was dry. Dipper sighed when he realized that he’d probably have to carry the idiot to his truck (Stan didn’t like it when Dipper got blood in the Stanmobile). Dipper carefully opened the door to the living room to see Bill’s yellow hair and idiot grin lit up by another rerun of ‘Night of the Almost But Not Quite Dead’. “‘Sup.” Bill whispered, “I got blood on your boxers again.”

“Why are you wearing my boxers?” Dipper asked. Bill just shrugged before he turned back to his leg and poked at the bone that had broke the skin. Dipper winced, only Bill could trip over Stan, not wake him up, and break his leg like he’d jumped of the diving board into an empty pool. “Please don’t do that, I feel vaguely uncomfortable when you do things like that. Dipper walked passed the lanky teen and into the kitchen and grabbed a garbage bag.

“What’s with the bag Pine Tree? Bringing Mable’s painting for with us for a late night physiological diagnosis?” Bill asked when Dipper came back into the room.

“It’s to put your leg in, the less blood in my truck the better.” Dipper said as he cautiously picked up Bill’s leg (ignoring the hiss of pain, Bill hated it when anyone tried to comfort him about something that he used to think was funny) and wrapped the leg as gently as he could

Bill just rolled his eye, “That junker of yours could only benefit from my bloodstains.”

Dipper just shook his head, better not to argue with the demon, he’d end up losing, like usual and then he’d have to deal with a smug demon the entire way to the hospital, “I’m going to move you to the chair for a minute, I gotta cover the blood so that Stan doesn’t trip on your blood in the morning.”

Bill pouted as Dipper picked him up and put him in the rickety chair at the table, “It’d serve him right, sleeping out here, someone could get hurt.” Bill grinned and Dipper felt a familiar twitch form in his right eyebrow as he moved the rug, that had in fact been covering on older bloodstain (also Bill’s) and moved over the new bloodstain. Which meant that Ford would find out about the old bloodstain. And yell at them for slowly destroying his house. “Aw come on that was funny Pine Tree, laugh.”

“No, no it’s not Bill, you’ve been human for six years now you need to stop being so casual about hurting yourself, if you die you’re dead, no oops, no take backs, no poofing back into a demon. You’d die, hell you might just bleed out for all we know, because in case you forgot last time we went to the E.R. we found out you’re anemic. Please take this serious.” Dipper whispered angrily as he picked the idiotic demon and managed to maneuver his way out to the porch and then to his truck. He carefully put the stoney faced demon into the passenger seat and got on the other side. Bill muttered something under his breath as Dipper began to angrily start the car. “Huh?” Dipper asked as he turned down the radio (it was blasting from his last trip to the Diner in town).

“I’m sorry, O.K. I get it, I’m a moron who fell for a trap set by two twelve year olds and still lives with them because they felt sorry for the fucking homeless teenager that they made. I’m sorry I don’t pay attention to my body and I’m sorry I felt the need to-” Bill was cut off when his face was jerked to the side and his lips bitten in some strange form of a kiss.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried, I don’t want you to die of something as stupid as tripping over Stan’s armchair. I mean it would look pretty interesting on a headstone, but still.” Dipper laughed and Bill just gave him a sloppy sort of grin as the car took off down the road. After a few minutes of silence Dipper looked over that the yellow haired teen, “So out of curiosity what were you doing in the living room at 3 in the morning, were you going to get a snack or something?”

Bill just grinned and tossed his head onto Dipper’s shoulder, “You know I’m always a slut for Doritos.”


End file.
